Nature of the Beast Season 2: Unleash the Beast!
by MiniKoontzy
Summary: Identities have been revealed and incredible responsibilities granted to otherwise ordinary 'bots. With a prison break still needing to be cleaned up, a new threat has made itself known: the heretical followers of Unicron, the Corrupticons. Now, for the team, there's a battle to be fought on two fronts, an ancient war that neither Bumblebee's team nor the Relkana are prepared for.
1. Chapter 1: Home's Where Your Leviacon Is

**Unleash the Beast! **

**Chapter 1: ****Home Is Where Your Leviacon Is  
**

_Strap in, ya'll, this is gonna be one "monster" of a sequel intro! :D_

* * *

"This is crazy."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

Bumblebee's face went blank. He leaned back. "Uhhh..."

He laughed.

It honestly _was_ crazy. But if he was being brutally honest...the craziness was kind of exciting. To have been told last night point blank by Vector Prime himself that the old, fragmented tales from eons past were as real as the ground beneath them was terrifying but also incredible. Then again, he was willing to bet that if anyone, even the sanest and most honest among them, approached one of their superiors back home to explain what they'd all found themselves sucked into, they'd be laughed at, called mad, given a psych evaluation to prove it, and promptly fired. And really, could he blame them? It was like being told the monster under the bed was real and so were your super-powered imaginary friends.

But the proof was right there in front of them both, milling about in the commons in an effort to shrug past the insanity of the previous few days.

He elbowed him. "Come on. You gotta admit it's kinda cool. It's like finding out your superhero comics are real!"

"You _say _that like it's a _good_ thing," Bumblebee said slowly. "Let me remind you that where there are super_heroes_, there are always super_villains. _We already met some of them, remember? They tried to kill us?"

He frowned. Yeah. He remembered. Seeing what those freaks could do made him long for the relative normalcy of the Decepticons.

"Also, I don't mean to be a killjoy or a jerk here, but...I mean..._look at them_."

He gestured to the commons. Charity was experimenting with her new photoharp with Grimlock, Russell and Denny, and Optimus; though her powers weren't activating, she was still excitedly taking notes and theorizing aloud. Zodiac was disinterested with both her weapons and her powers, instead opting to help Fix-It and Windstorm put the Alchemor and the groundbridge arch back together. Frostbite, still in biped (he honestly couldn't get over how weird it was seeing him in mech form after so long as a wolf), was idly trying to teach himself how to use his huge new weapon in slow motion but clearly had no idea how despite Strongarm trying to help. Backdraft was strolling around and trying to teach himself how to do a gunslinger's twirl only to find out he had a serious case of butterfingers – probably because the short, stocky blade at the front threw off the thing's center of balance. The kid didn't know that, of course, so he kept trying anyway. Sideswipe didn't help matters and was egging him on.

"They aren't ready," warned Bumblebee in a low voice.

"Give 'em, a chance, 'Bee," he insisted.

"You realize spinning you new gun around like a toy is a violation of proper firearm handling," Strongarm growled. "If you keep that up I'm confiscating it."

Backdraft either didn't hear her over his happy humming or ignored her. He tried the spin again. "Hey, I think I got –"

_bzzANG!_

Zodiac tackled Fix-It out of the way as a bolt of orange energy struck the back of the command center, scorching its metal black. Everyone's focus snapped first to the Alchemor, then to the culprit. Backdraft, wide-eyed, laughed nervously, quickly hid the gun behind his backstrut and backed off.

"Case in point," his friend muttered.

He winced. "Maybe some firearms training...?"

"You think?" a trembling, still-startled Fix-It squeaked.

Optimus sighed, rose, and went after the startled youth.

"Windstorm, _please _tell me you're almost done down there," begged Zodiac.

"Just a few more cables to reconnect –" the engineer announced cheerfully. "Ah! There we go! Fix-It, try the power if you would, please."

Fix-It reactivated the control panel and after some humming the arch came back to life.

"Excellent work, Windstorm!"

The engineer extricated himself from below the control panel, dusted himself off, and beamed. "A simple matter of replacing everything back where they belong. Not exactly a puzzle if you know the solution beforehand. What of the Alchemor itself?"

Fix-It thus put the Alchemor through a boot cycle. Just like the arch, the ship came back to life almost with a happy purr. Maybe it was just him, but it seemed like the Alchemor was running just a little bit smoother than it had before it had been gutted.

He was just about to heave a sigh of relief when a loud ping came through the Alchemor's channel.

"–_aptain? Hello? Is anyone there? Is this even going through...?_"

"Wayfinder!" Zodiac shrieked happily.

"_Captain!_" the voice greeted jovially. "_Thank the Allspark! You had us all worried sick, you crazy little albatross!_"

"Wayfinder?" Windblade wondered. "Who's Wayfinder?"

"He's my astro-cartographer! Best slagged star-mapper this side of Andromeda!" the little Avioid proudly declared.

_"Oh, come on. That's_ _exaggerating. I'm as skilled as any back home._" If it was possible to hear a blush, he heard it loud it clear.

_"_Go on, Fix-It! Get him on screen!"

How exactly she knew Wayfinder was calling over vid-comm's and not just over an audio channel was a bit weird but he let it slide. The figure that appeared on the screen was a handsome, smiling mech with a very unique frame design: a bit lanky in the arms and legs but extremely smooth and flow-y everywhere else, especially around the helm and chassis. The mech clearly had an aquatic form, like any Aquatronian he'd met, but in a way that wasn't anywhere near as subtle as Windstorm's was.

"_Hi everyone!_" waved Wayfinder. He looked around, saw some of the weapons, and asked nervously, "_Uh, this isn't a bad time, is it?_"

"Not at all!" Zodiac assured. "What's up, Waves?"

"_Couple of things, actually. For one, we got your message, captain. About the breakout. CERF won't be able to spare mechpower, I'm afraid, as we're not a military organization, obviously, but they are more than able to spare supplies. The wait won't even be for very long. In fact, one ship is scheduled to be there sometime today or tomorrow for a drop off if I'm reading this right._"

"That's wonderful! Thank you!" Charity exclaimed.

"_You're welcome,_" smiled Wayfinder. "_I made sure to put in a request for medical supplies for you._"

Charity grew the biggest grin he'd ever seen on her lip-plates. "You are officially my new favorite person!"

He fidgeted and looked down at what had to be notes. His expression changed from amiable to serious. "_So, ah, with that out of the way...we need to talk. About the other thing. That scan you sent. That's the main reason I'm calling._"

"Scan? What scan?" he heard Windblade whisper to Grimlock.

"He's got some kinda mer-mech mode," the Dinobot whispered back.

Wayfinder brought the scan up to kill any doubt; it definitely didn't kill the Camien's incredulity though.

"_Let me apologize first for the wait._ _It took me a trip back home and some (possibly illegal) snooping to get these answers. There's really just not a lot of information idly floating around about this, even to a local like me. I mean, okay, technically there is, but not visual data if you get what I'm saying. Required some extrapolating from written or spoken sources. I don't think you realize how big this is, either. If I were a journalist I'd be getting a Pulitzer for solving one of Aquatron's biggest mysteries in recent memory. So I'm just going to address Windstorm directly, captain. Is that okay?_"

"Waves, I've told you before: you don't need my permission to talk to somebody," smiled Zodiac.

Wayfinder thus turned to Windstorm. "_I'm not going to gloss things over. I'm __– well, I'm not sure I even can. You're a sea-speaker, Windstorm._"

"...I'm a what?" Windstorm wondered.

"_Let me rephrase that. I got a little ahead of myself. That aquatic mode you have is always the hallmark of a sea-speaker; sea-speakers are endemic to the water-world colony of Aquatron."_

A long pause settled in alongside the new information. When it finally did, Windstorm's optics positively engulfed his entire eye cavity. He staggered back and would've fallen backwards if he hadn't backed directly into a returning (and confused) Backdraft, and _he _would've staggered back had Grimlock not steadied them both.

"I'm...I'm Aquatronian?" he gasped.

There was no need to even see him to know how startled he was; he could feel it through his field. It sparked and jumped and didn't seem to know what to do with itself. The look on his faceplates was proof his mind was in the same state. If ever a mech looked like he'd just got caught in the headlights like a dumbstruck deer and promptly shoved off a high cliff, Windstorm did.

"No, no, no, this-this can't be right," he gasped. "I-I can't be! I've worked on an Aquatronian CERF ship or two but I-I've never even _been _to Aquatron in my life! How can I possibly be from there if I have no memories of it?"

"You must have left very early, then," Charity mused, "before any concrete memories could solidify."

"I mean I was thinking somebody brainwashed him, that'd be way cooler," Sideswipe admitted, "but, yeah, that works too."

"_The only question is how he got to Cybertron,_" said Wayfinder. "_Getting a sea-speaker off-world is a miracle in and of itself. You don't remember leaving, Windstorm? Even anything fuzzy?_"

Windstorm shook his helm. "No. Nothing at all. The earliest memories I have are from Cybertron."

"_Bummer. But not as huge of a roadblock as it sounds._ _I actually have a suggestion._"

"We're listening," Bumblebee assured. "What'd did you have in mind, Wayfinder?"

"_I was thinking,_" the star-mapper began with a newfound amiable smile, "_as the only qualified engineer you've got on hand __– no offense to Fix-It _–"

"None taken," chirped Fix-It. "Honestly, I'm amazed how long we managed to cope without him."

"_I mean, with his qualifications and the amount of scrap you're buried in down there thanks to the breakout, he's gotta be worked to the bone. Mending the ship. Mending the pods. Fixing any sort of mechanical or electrical problem that arises. That sort of stuff. I was thinking: how about I take him off for a little vacation-slash-educational trip to Aquatron? It wouldn't be for more than a week. I know he's desperately needed due to his skill set._"

"Yeah, more than you realize..." he mumbled to himself.

"_What was that, sir?_"

"Uh, nothing," he lied.

"Well, Windstorm? What do you say?" Zodiac asked. "I think that's a pretty good way to solve this puzzle. Besides, with all the work you've done I'd say you've earned a short vacation. No better place to do that than Aquatron!"

"Would it just be him?" wondered Strongarm.

Wayfinder's expression became awkward again. "_Uhh, let's just say with things how are __– i.e. because he's a sea-speaker who's been missing for decades __– bringing someone with him is probably a bad idea. I don't want any of you being needlessly arrested or hurt because the Fleet Admirals assumed that one of you, like, kidnapped him and were looking to ransom him or something._"

"Well, _they _sound fun," deadpanned Backdraft, making a face.

"_Look, I'm not gonna fault them. Sea-speakers are kind of a big deal on Aquatron. So they're understandably paranoid about keeping them safe. That's why they aren't allowed to leave._"

"They're under house arrest?" realized Grimlock. "Sorry, I'm with Backdraft on this. That's pretty mean."

Wayfinder shrugged, "_Honestly, I find it mean too but that's just how things are._"

"It's not that different I guess from how well-protected the Mistress of Flame is back home," admitted Windblade. "No matter where you go, important people generally get insane security details to protect them. Or in this case, total planetary house arrest."

"Well, Windstorm?" Bumblebee prompted.

The engineer endeavored to straighten himself out into a more professional state before considering – and he actually _did _seem to be considering it. There was still some obvious confusion about it (who could blame him?) but the existential panic was basically gone, replaced by a far more characteristic curiosity. It was soon joined by a glimmer of hesitation. Windstorm looked first to him and 'Bee and then back towards the isles where, upon following that look, he found Optimus was standing quietly. (How long had he been there, listening in?) The Prime nodded back with a faint smile.

"I accept your proposal, Wayfinder," declared Windstorm. "However, I will need to settle a few things here before I depart with you. Is that quite alright?"

"_Sure thing. Just gimme a call back when you're all squared away._"

"Thank you. I will do so."

Smiling and waving, Wayfinder closed the channel.

"Ookay. Someone go get Sen and Force," Bumblebee suggested.

Sideswipe volunteered and vaulted the wall before even asking where they were. Optimus actually bothered to ask, had Fix-It locate them, and promptly went in the opposite direction. Sideswipe came bolting back over the fence and after him a few moments later. It took maybe ten minutes for the lovebirds to reappear, looking a little groggy and disoriented.

"What's this about Aquatron?" Counterforce wondered.

* * *

There really wasn't much for him to do to prepare. He made sure his repair notes for the pods were left for Fix-It. His notes and suggestions for Tumbler's prosthetic were left for Dr. Green and Charity. He made sure the groundbridge wasn't being finicky any longer (it seemingly wasn't; perhaps gutting it had acted as a debug) but he left instructions on how he had gutted it in case it started acting up again. Packing was rather out of the question; he had nothing _to _pack.

"You're actually going?" Sentenza demanded.

"Surely you understand why. You're a detective. It's your business to hunt down answers," he insisted. "This might be the best chance I have to obtain them."

"I say go for it," said Counterforce. "But we'll have to wait for the ship to stop by. We don't exactly have a spacebridge here."

He eyed the officer sideways, intrigued. "We?"

Counterforce winced abashedly. "I was kind of hoping you'd let Sen and Isohyet go with you. Not to Aquatron. I was hoping maybe the ship captain would drop them both off on Cybertron on the way there. It's...safer for them there right now."

"You realize we can ask that instead of just hope for it," Zodiac deadpanned humorously.

The channel to Wayfinder was reopened. "_Well that was quick. Is Windstorm squared away?_"

"I am," he assured him.

"Hey, Waves. Got a little request for you," Zodiac chirped.

"_Oh yeah?_"

"Would you be able to get in touch with that ship and see if they're okay making a pit-stop on the way to Aquatron?"

"_I think that was the plan to begin with,_" Wayfinder clarified. "_But lemme double check._"

Rather than open up records like he thought he would, Wayfinder turned away from the video screen and hollered: "_Hey! Chief! Question!_"

To his surprise, a big burly bull of a mech appeared on screen after a short delay. Flaming red with horns on his helm, he somehow resembled a Buffaloid or Taurian without being a pseudo-beast or Predacon.

Zodiac let out a happy squeak of "Colchis!"

Wayfinder explained the question to him. Colchis cocked a brow ridge at Sentenza (no doubt wondering what in the world she was doing on Earth of all places) but recovered quickly. He assured that dropping the detective off wouldn't be a problem at all. They were going to drop by Cybertron regardless to deliver some of the prisoners they'd recaptured. Dropping off a legitimate passenger in the process wouldn't mess with that one bit. Kaon would undoubtedly be ecstatic to have their resident P.I back home where she belonged.

"_In fact, let's go on ahead and get loaded up, shall we?_"

A groundbridge swirled open, one that certainly wasn't theirs.

That was the moment his suspicions started to mount. Someone knew more than she was letting on.

"Zodiac..." he warned.

Zodiac gave him a smiling, innocent look. Definitely planning something, that one.

Other mechs and femmes came through the portal and helped haul in the occupied pods. He was personally glad to see Fracture and his little stooges get hauled in on the first round. Those little devils deserved to be as far away from innocent people as possible. While their helpers were occupied, another big femme gingerly delivered two large crates of medical supplies to a nearly swooning Charity.

"Just be careful with how you address some of them," Counterforce urged the captain. "We have every reason to think some of these people aren't dangerous criminals. They just need help. Filch, Bisk, and Nightstrike in particular – though Nightstrike you may want to show some extra caution around."

"_We'll keep that in mind, officer._"

"So? Are you ready to go?" Counterforce asked both him and the two femmes.

Sentenza looked at the portal, then at Counterforce. Hesitation brimmed in her optics. The Praxian smiled, pulled her in, and planted a quick kiss on near her right optics.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her. "It'll be like I'm there the whole time."

Sentenza gave him the flattest look he had ever witnessed.

"...Okay, maybe in _that _way you'll notice I'm gone," he admitted awkwardly.

The black Seeker seemed to take that as recompense, smiled, and pulled his beak extension hard enough to make him flail to catch his balance again. "Dork."

She took one step towards the portal. "Anyone wanna send any messages with me?"

Half a dozen voices instantly piped up with message requests for loved ones or employers. Sentenza promised to get them all delivered.

"Okay, no, no, no you don't, missy. You aren't leaving till I get a picture of you two!" exclaimed Denny. He whipped his phone out. "Say homecoming!"

The two laughed together, struck a cute pose, and repeated the word. Just as Denny's finger made to capture the moment, Sideswipe dove in from the side with his hands wide and shouted "photobomb!" But he didn't put his hands out in time to catch himself and ingloriously fell into the dirt.

"Sideswipe!" scolded Bumblebee.

"Worth it!" the red youth declared.

Bumblebee sighed and pinched his nasal bridge. "Denny, you wanna try again?" the former scout wondered.

Denny guffawed good-naturedly. "That's a keeper!"

Sideswipe stuck his glossa out victoriously at Bumblebee.

He took the lead. Sentenza and Isohyet followed behind. Sentenza's pace behind him faltered briefly. Out of curiosity he briefly paused mid-stride and glanced back. Optimus had gently taken the black Seeker's arm and he heard him mutter quietly to her, "_Remember what I said._" Sentenza nodded then trotted after him into the ship. A splendid ship, too – in fact, one he recognized. It was the bridge of the Solstice Matador. No wonder the 'bots who had helped them load had looked familiar: they were the Matador's crew.

He eyed Colchis suspiciously. "_You_ are the ship doing the pick up?" he guessed.

Colchis chuckled loudly. "Surprise!"

He looked around. "You used a _ground_bridge to transport us and the pods. Where is this ship located exactly?"

Wayfinder laughed and then hollered "Weigh anchor!"

The ship lurched as its engines roared from idle to full power. Something was odd about the sound the thrusters made though – a strange kind of muffling effect was occurring that couldn't be explained if the Matador were hidden high in the atmosphere.

"...We're underwater," he realized.

"Underwater?" Isohyet repeated in shock. "Underwater _where_?"

They all three shared looks.

* * *

"Woah, woah, _woah, WOAH!_" shrieked Fix-It as the Alchemor's display went mad. "Massive motion hit on scanners! It's saying it's right out in the –"

The mini-couldn't even finish his sentence. His focus snapped up and away from the display and out into the nearby bay. Something downright bizarre was happening to the waters: they looked like they were being disturbed by something huge but there was nothing there to be causing it. Until the "something" breached the surface and rose up dripping tons of water back into the bay in great sheets.

"Oh-ho-ho my go-oh-od!" Russell cried. "No way! No _way!_"

For the briefest second, so short that had he blinked he would have missed it, the thing's invisibility flickered to reveal the gigantic spaceship with huge twin guns on its bow that almost resembled horns.

"What are you _doing_?!" gasped a horrified Strongarm. "Have you people lost your minds?! Ships are required to be concealed high in the atmosphere or low earth orbit to prevent sightings by humans, not flaunted in full view of a city like, like –!"

"Totally worth it though!" Denny exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "If only Hank's dad could see this! He'd lose his freaking mind!"

"You're going to get in trouble! Go!" Strongarm insisted.

Zodiac let out a loud, long peal of laughter. "You heard her, Colchis! Take those frackers for a ride – my treat!"

* * *

"You heard the femmes!" Colchis boomed into the internal address system. "Full throttle!"

The ship roared into high gear with a loud boom and a powerful lurch. Crown City swept by below them. The sky went from blue to indigo within only a few minutes until the planet was left behind and distant stars surrounded them on all sides. The planet's moon soon encompassed the entire front view of the ship, but it wasn't to it they were heading; they were heading around to its dark side where, floating in low synchronous orbit, was a spacebridge.

"This is Captain Colchis of the Solstice Matador. Requesting transport back to Cybertronian airspace."

"_Request acknowledged. Welcome back, Colchis._"

The spacebridge yawned open. Once on the other side of the shimmering tunnel, a metal planet gleamed ahead of them: Cybertron.

"Home," Isohyet smiled. "I never thought I'd see it again."

Colchis piloted the ship in. "We'll drop at the docks and then we'll 'bridge you wherever you need to go from there."

The captain kept his word. The ship was parked above the Hydrax Plateau and a groundbridge was provided for both femmes' convenience. Isohyet left first; she was transported not back to Vizanthus, but to Praxus. Rather made sense considering her association with Counterforce. Perhaps she could find shelter there. Sentenza thanked Colchis for the ride and slipped out into a redirected 'bridge to Kaon.

He recalled the Prime's words to her: "_Remember what I said._" What had he meant by that, he wondered? Perhaps a personal, private message request?

He ruminated on the possibilities while the crew unloaded their collected cargo. It couldn't be a message, actually; the context of timing indicated whatever he had told her, he had told her before her offer to deliver messages had been given. There had been a gap between when Optimus had retrieved her and Counterforce and when they had arrived in the commons – time enough to tell her something specific without anyone overhearing, he wagered.

Colchis didn't let him muse for long though. The ship took off for the spacebridge a second time and once more the ship flew through the swirling green tunnel.

The planet they approached this time was in a way much like Earth – a world covered in water – but with far fewer visible landmasses, and they were much smaller. Indeed, there were no large continents, merely dozens of large archipelagoes freckling the water-world. That alone left him skittish. That meant they had no large port for star-ships like he'd thought. He only got more nervous when the ship dove straight into the sea. But he had to admit after a while being submerged it wasn't nearly so unsettling. The ship kept near the surface and the waters were absolutely pristine, like swimming through glass. Shoals of strange sea-life quickly swam out of the way of the ship's bow.

"Is this ringing any bells, Windstorm?" Wayfinder asked quietly.

He was forced to shake his helm. It all felt so foreign.

Then an alarm blared.

"Holy lug nuts!" one mech at the controls swore. "Chief, we got incoming on our starboard side! It's big! _Really_ big!"

Wayfinder's optics widened. "Oh, no. Not again..."

"Again?! What do you mean again?!" he demanded.

"It's –!"

A strange roar rocked the ship before the ship violently lurched to the side, knocking nearly everyone to the ground. When he looked up, the roof of the ship was punctured by –

"Are those _teeth?!_" he shrieked.

Water began to gush in from the punctures. The roar happened again. The ship shook.

"It's Maelstrom!" cried Wayfinder.

"Try to shake him off!" Colchis barked.

The helmsmech tried firing the engines. "We can't, chief! He's got us hooked!" the panicked helmsmech clarified.

"Give me a visual!"

The helmsmech brought up a full view of the outside. He nearly fainted at seeing what was clamped down around the ship: jaws. Big ones.

"Windstorm! You're his speaker! Tell him to knock it off!" Wayfinder cried.

"_What?!_ How am I supposed to tell –?!"

The alarm blared a second time. Another huge motion hit appeared on the ship's scanners. This hit, however, was far broader than it was long. Something made the ship jolt again, but the strike felt different, less direct. The teeth refused to budge. The jolt happened again, though, and this time the teeth came out with a horrible warped screeching noise. But with the teeth no longer acting as stoppers, more water flowed into the bridge. He felt the ship begin to sink (confirmed by the altimeter) as the exterior visual scanners revealed the scene occurring above them: a huge crocodile-dragon monster of a creature was engaged with another titan, a manta ray with turbines built into its wings. The former's neck region was caught in the latter's cephalic-lobe pincers.

"Flotsam!" Wayfinder exclaimed in relief.

A long harpoon-tipped tail swung up to impale the manta's target. A pained scream from Maelstrom made the ship vibrate. Apparently not willing to fight the manta titan, their attacker abandoned the ship and swam off with a final roar, though he swore he heard a whine contained inside the sound. His spark twinged in pity he didn't quite understand.

Another huge jolt came and the ship began to rise. That sense didn't stop until the ship breached the water's surface. Sunlight glared in through the monstrous, gaping holes Maelstrom's teeth had left in the ship's roof.

It was then he noticed they weren't merely floating – they were moving forward at a rather brisk pace. Six or seven knots if he had to guess, a fairly decent speed for something so huge, and it made for a reassuringly smooth ride. But a little tug of uncertainty bothered him. Where was this titanic creature taking them?

"It's okay. She's getting us to shore," explained Wayfinder.

He nearly did a double take. "She's...friendly?"

"She just saved our sorry skid-plates so obviously," grunted Colchis.

A rather tenuous silence settled in as they glided along. Curious flying creatures native to the planet joined in their travel. It was difficult to find their cries delightful when the only reason he was able to hear them were the giant holes in the ship.

"I've got a hit for land, chief," the helmsmech finally announced.

"Lucky for us that Maelstrom struck us close to an archipelago," Colchis hemmed.

"Lucky, sure, but also a really, really bad sign," warned a disturbed Wayfinder. "Maelstrom hasn't attacked a ship for years, and he _never _attacks this close to the islands. That's Flotsam and Reef Crusher's turf. He _knows _better."

He remembered the whine he had heard in Maelstrom's roar. Maybe he was wrong (this planet was proving to be utterly mad and he was no biologist) but whines weren't usually associated with wild aggression. Neither Frostbite nor Grimlock had ever whined while attacking.

Their motion slowed to a crawl as they entered shallower waters. After a few lurches they finally came to a complete stop. The motion sensors showed Flotsam on the retreat. Heaving a sigh, Wayfinder motioned him to follow him. When he stepped outside with him he was relieved to see the ship had been shoved almost right up against a sandy beach, beyond which lush forests stretched as far as he could see. Mechs and femmes were already gathered on the shore waving or hollering, asking them if they were all unharmed, or wading out to assess the ship's damage. Some of them even came bearing tools, as if they had known beforehand that a damaged ship would be arriving.

_That_ was probably as disturbing as the giant teeth that had impaled the Matador. They were _used _to this.

He turned an incredulous, somewhat infuriated look on Zodiac's crew-mate. "Is this the standard set of procedures for greeting foreign arrivals?"

Wayfinder laughed nervously. "...It's actually not, no. But, ah...poor initial reception aside," he continued, massaging his neck awkwardly. "Welcome to Aquatron, Windstorm."

He heaved out his terror as a weary sigh. If this was just the introduction to Aquatron, he dreaded what the rest of this "vacation" was going to be like.

"Oh, come on, you big guppy!" his Aquatronian guide teased, elbowing him in the side. "Let's go down!"

"Uh, they are down there. We are up here. There's no ramp. How do we...?"

Wayfinder answered his question by, quite simply, jumping down into the shallow waters and landing in boat form.

"Oh, no. No. I am _not _jumping! My vehicle form is not a boat!" he shouted down.

One of the Aquatronians overheard and took on the form of a sea-plane. The individual, introducing himself as Dewdrop, offered him a lift down to dry land which he gladly accepted. Wayfinder waded ashore almost in tandem with the landing. He seemed about as happy as he was to be on land.

"Come on!"

Before he could protest, Wayfinder eagerly dragged him forward into the jungles. He managed to get one last glimpse at the clear bay before the undergrowth obscured it.

* * *

_Water. _

_Deep._

_Dark._

_Empty._

_Massive tendrils of purple energy swirled down deeper, staining the water purple around them. The wisps provided a dim light before sinking into something, something titanic that groaned and moved in a slow, sluggish way. What she thought were tall pillars of stone in an ocean ridge shifted below._

_Teeth, she realized. _

_Huge teeth. _

_LOTS of teeth. _

_A cavernous maw, like a whale's lined with the fangs of an angler fish, yawned open beneath her..._

_"Zoe!"_

A light double-tap on her cheekplate shook her out of the vision. She staggered, gasping. Smokescreen was kneeling in front of her, worried.

"You good? You kinda spaced out with weird glow-y optics for a sec there."

"It just happened again," she clarified, shaking. "I-I saw something."

Everyone's attention honed in on her. Even Sideswipe couldn't ignore her. But it was Optimus who gave her the sharpest, keenest look.

"What did you see, Zodiac?" the Prime rumbled.

"I-I-I don't know. Something big. _Really _big. Underwater."

"On Aquatron?" Bumblebee guessed.

"It had to be. Pretty sure something that big doesn't live here."

"Aquatron has native behemoths known as Leviacons," Optimus translated. "You may have seen one of them. While on scale with a Titan, they are not a threat to the colonists. Indeed, they protect them. If he is Aquatronian – and Wayfinder's proof was compelling – he should not face any danger from them."

She shook her helm. That only made her vision more nightmarish. "...Do we know if Dark Energon can affect Leviacons?"

At that the Prime's optics showed fear. True fear. "What?"

"...I think Windstorm's in danger, Optimus," she realized in terror. "Something bad is about to happen out there if it hasn't already. Something to do with a Leviacon."

"And we have no way to warn him," Fix-It realized in even more pronounced panic.

* * *

**Dun dun DUUUUN!*evil laughter***

**Welcome to the sequel opener to Season 2 of Nature of the Beast, everyone! Welcome to "Unleash the Beast!"**


	2. Chapter 2: Home's Where (Part 2)

**Unleash the Beast!**

**Chapter 2: Home Is Where Your Leviacon Is (Part 2)**

*_this one'll be a bit longer..._

* * *

Windstorm could not help but feel he was being scrutinized. Deeply. Put under a microscope or, perhaps, put on trial.

After the amiable greetings of the city of Nautilus (Wayfinder's home city no less) the inquisitive, sharp, somewhat skeptical look of the local Fleet Admiral, Mizzenmast, was...less than welcoming by comparison. Mizzenmast was not hostile by any means (he had greeted him just as jovially, really); however there was the distinct feeling that the Admiral was not exactly impressed by him. That wasn't at all surprising, what with being a stranger in every regard, but it was still enough to cause a ruffling of offense in his spark. That was the one downside of all this, he supposed: he could no longer rely on his credentials as he did back in Crystal City. No one knew who he was here. He had to build respect and credibility from the ground up.

Mizzenmast looked over to his guide. "I-look, I'm not one to question you, Wayfinder – your story sounds legitimate, but – are you sure it's him?"

"Positive. His sea-gift bears a pretty stunning resemblance to Maelstrom..." Wayfinder shrugged his shoulders, "if you squint, I guess. That's not his fault, chief. He doesn't have an aquatic form like everyone else here so of course it's going to look pretty different. He was raised on Cybertron. An aquatic alt. mode there just isn't practical. That'd be like tossing a dolphin onto shore and expecting it to literally walk."

Mizzenmast's expression grew, he thought, a touch sympathetic as his gaze shifted back to his subject. "Truth be told, not looking like us probably saved you a lot of unwarranted heckling."

He nodded to him. "Yes. I am aware of the tensions between Aquatron and Cybertron. Ostensibly a side effect of the War briefly touching your planet and you wanting nothing to do with it."

The big mech offered a friendly smile. "I'm glad to see you're intelligent enough to take note of that and not hastily rewrite us as traitors."

"Traitor implies there was some kind of alliance to begin with," he reminded him. "Being a colony does not by default denote an alliance. You were independent well before the War started. Calling you 'traitors' is akin to insisting that a cog is a piston; an absolute absurdity. But petty personal grievances _do _have a depressing tendency to skew facts."

At that assertion, Mizzenmast's skepticism was washed away. The same friendly smile that had first welcomed him into his office returned.

"We're fortunate how decent you are," he declared. "I suppose you'll be wanting to meet the others, then?" guessed the Admiral.

He bowed politely, "It would be a pleasure to."

"Come on, then. I'll introduce you to one. He can take it from there."

Mizzenmast swept past him, patting a shoulder as he went, and he followed after him towards the door. The Admiral paused soon after crossing the threshold though.

"Well?" he called back into the office. "What are you standing in there like a beached frigate for? Come on!"

Wayfinder's look became one of both horror and shock. "But, chief, you know the rules: no one but the Admirals are allowed to openly consort with the speakers!"

"Drown the rules," insisted the Admiral. "You brought our missing speaker home, Wayfinder. Besides," he winked, "no one else has to know, eh?"

The rapid shift from shock to sheer delight was almost dizzying. Wayfinder ran out to join them.

Frankly, he was somewhat surprised that Mizzenmast headed right back towards the bay where the Matador lay. Most of the idle spectators in the crowd had dispersed, leaving only those who were busy with repairs _– _which was still quite a crowd. One mech in particular caught his optics: a towering white-speckled, blue-grey mech even bigger than Mizzenmast; cables cascaded down past his neck _– _rather resembling dreadlocks in a way. The mech seemed to be in charge of organizing repair efforts.

"Trawler!" cried Mizzenmast.

The blue-grey giant turned, revealing a jovial, rounded face with a sharp chin. Mizzenmast gestured for him to come over, so he trotted over. It wasn't until he was up close that he could appreciate how big the mech was: easily rivaling Optimus in stature.

"Hey, chief! What's up?"

"Trawler, this is Windstorm. He is like you."

Trawler's beaming face became shocked for a moment. He practically jumped backwards. "_Ah-weh! _Are you for real?"

"Wait, _Trawler _is one?" a stunned Wayfinder gasped.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Trawler," he bowed politely.

Trawler's shock gave way to an even more beaming smile than before. He hunched over him to be more level with him, swept a hand out, and offered him a strange hand gesture. Windstorm stood awkwardly staring at it, not quite sure what the expected response was and feeling quite daft as a result.

The grey-blue giant laughed amiably, "I'm just teasing," he told him before holding his hand out palm first for a typical greeting. "Nice to finally meetcha, Windy."

"Likewise," he smiled back. "Forgive me if I seem ill-acclimated. This is all very new to me."

"Ah, don't worry about it," assured Trawler, clapping him on the shoulder. "We'll getcha sorted out. Plenty of time!"

"Yeah, um, he's actually only staying a week, Trawler. He has other things to attend to," admitted Wayfinder hesitantly, "like, y'know, having a whole life back on Cybertron that he kinda has to get back to? On top of currently helping out with a _situation _on Earth?"

Trawler wasn't discouraged. "A week? Pfft! We've got forty-eight hour days; that's plenty of time!"

Without further ado, Trawler looped an arm around him and turned him towards the bay.

"You wanna join us, Wayfinder?" asked Trawler over his shoulder.

Wayfinder admitted he probably shouldn't; there were rules for a reason and he _really _didn't want break them if he could avoid it. But Wayfinder did assure that if Windstorm needed a place on dry land to stay after exploring, his door in Nautilus was open. Windstorm eagerly accepted the offer. Considering how dangerous the waters were, dry land was a literal safe haven _– _unless by some ungodly miracle one of those behemoths could haul itself onto land and terrorize him there, too.

With that horrifying thought, Trawler started guiding him through the crowd towards the water. As they passed by one cluster of 'bots, he thought he caught someone staring at him, intentionally catch his eye. Briefly, very briefly, he swore he saw glowing purple optics, but after a blink he saw they were, in fact, turquoise.

"Windy?" wondered Trawler. "Are you good?"

He glanced back at the blue-grey giant. "What? No. I-I'm quite alright. I just thought I saw..."

By the time he looked back, the 'bot in question was gone, vanished into the crowd.

"Are there any other outsiders here currently?" he demanded quickly.

"Mm. Just one, I think. Some scientist fella who wanted to study ship wrecks here for some reason or another, but the Admirals have him shore-side till they okay his request. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I was merely curious," he lied, briefly looking back towards the crowd.

Had his nervous processor been playing tricks? Had his optics deceived him? Surely if there was a Corrupticon present the Aquatronians would have noticed by now.

Trawler veered west to a little secluded beach. Mirror-clear water lapped at his trods. Trawler waded in.

"Uh...is that _safe_?" he wondered nervously.

"You're worried about Maelstrom," realized the blue-grey giant. "Don't be. Leviacons never attack their speakers."

_"I_ was attacked," he reminded him stiffly.

"I don't think he knew you were on that ship; if he did he would've left you well enough alone."

It was hard to ignore Trawler's certainty, so he waded in after him. Once he was fully submerged, a little alert popped up which he accepted. His body swiftly morphed into the strange semi-fish form. Trawler actually looked impressed by it, admitting he'd had no idea that a land-based vehicle form could even be compatible with a sea-speaker's gift. Then, Trawler himself changed to match him: his long legs morphed into a long, muscular tail with a huge vertical fluke at the tip _– _a shark's tail judging by the shape.

Grinning, Trawler gestured him to follow before leisurely swimming off.

He swam after him. "Where are you taking me?"

"You were raised on Cybertron, yeah? I figured you would want to see where you actually came from," smiled Trawler.

His fellow sea-speaker led him out past into the open ocean. He was expecting a long journey but it took them perhaps half an hour of swimming to reach their destination: a very small island protected by a forest of low trees. It would have been rather inconspicuous if not for the lights wafting up from the island's center into, just visible through the vegetation. He thought he caught sight of a single building, too.

They were about a klick distant from the island when a loud clicking noise starting piercing his audials. Then, ahead, a monstrous shape could be discerned, one that came into terrifying focus as it approached. An armored, low head with long whiskers on the lower jaw; huge, tapered flippers in front, and tentacles like a cephalopod on its underside. The tail was honestly the most normal thing about the bizarre behemoth.

He panicked and backed off when he saw the teeth protruding from its jaw.

"Easy, easy, mech! It's cool," Trawler assured. "That's just Nekton."

"Another Leviacon?" he guessed.

"Yup! He's totally harmless though. Look, I'll show you. Nekton! Indoor voice, please!" he requested amiably.

The titan beast gave a little whine but quieted down on command. Trawler swam over to him, spread his arms, and gave the beast's huge snout a friendly hug. A happy chirrup said Nekton was quite happy with the greeting.

"See? He's just a big old sea puppy, really," Trawler called back, smiling. "Come on over!"

Wary, he joined Trawler in front of Nekton's snout. The whiskers on Nekton's chin came up to brush all over him _– _whiskers that were highly dexterous; perhaps a little more than he was strictly comfortable with.

"Yes. Ah. Mm. Hello, Nekton," he said awkwardly as the whiskers frisked right over his faceplates.

Nekton's frisk came to a stop with another happy round of clicking. His right flipper then swayed, almost like the gesture was saying "You may pass."

He was happy to get back onto land. Trawler led him through the brush until they reached a clearing. He caught his breath. In front of him lay a glowing font of color about fifty feet in diameter: Aquatron's Well. A smaller echo of the one back home. Just being close to it was having a strange side effect on his spark, like a low hum, one that sounded in tandem with the odd, inaudible hum the Well was emitting. It was not subconscious reverence, he realized. It was recognition.

"This...is where I came from," he muttered.

"Yup. Where you, me, and everyone else here came from."

"...That answers one question. Another still needs answering."

"You wanna know how you got to Cybertron," Trawler guessed correctly. "Ditto. I'm as curious as you are."

"I'm afraid that is my fault," came a new voice.

He turned. An elderly sea-green and lavender mech hobbled towards them out of the nearby building. He saw on his arm the markings used by blacksmiths back home.

"Free Mold?" gasped the blue-grey giant at his side. "What do you mean it's your fault?"

"Was I not clear, boy?" clipped the elderly mech. "_I_ am the reason he wound up so far away from home. It was no accident either."

"Tell me. Please," Windstorm begged gently.

* * *

_As a blacksmith going night on three centuries old, Free Mold knew what the little shell of liquid metal would be when it struggled to take shape. The usual protoform was never quite right the first time for such special individuals; ___they always required a little extra effort to mesh the conflicting physical data._ And so, under his careful nudging, the little one finally solidified into what it was meant to be: a tiny mech, small enough to be cupped in his open palms. _

_The little mech wasn't very impressive to look at; __none of them ever really were. Until they were given their adult forms they looked essentially the same as any other sparkling from Aquatron. Rounded edges. Large optics. An overall aquatic look to them. But this one __– this one had something different to his trained old optics, something he had not seen in the others before him. Rather than be afraid and start keening, this one stared directly into his optics with such a deeply inquisitive look that he expected the new-built sea-speaker to question him.  
_

_"Hello," Free Mold greeted softly._

_The little one tilted his little rounded helm to the side and made a curious little rising noise. Then his arms extended out and a happier noise came. _

_Free Mold knew that gesture. He plucked the little one off the table and went over to his log console. He prepared to type in with his free hand the new speaker's birth, but his hand paused just over the holographic keyboard. As soon as he input the data, the Fleet Admirals would know. _

_The little one made another inquisitive squeak, pointing at the glowing console with a delightful smile. _

_His hand pulled back. One of the more recent logs stared back at him with mute accusation. He vividly remembered young Outrigger's reaction when, one day, not long after her adult upgrade, a group of 'bots had shown up unannounced. They had declared what she was and had come to take her away for training. Outrigger had taken unkindly to the announcement; two of the mechs had been hospitalized after she had attacked them in a desperate bid to stay with her pod. Only the timely arrival of speaker Tsunami and speaker Siltswell had prevented any more bodily harm. Outrigger had gone with them, but with a burning hatred in her optics. Every time he had seen her since, that anger burned nearly as hot as it had then._

__Free Mold was decided. _____Such inquisitive, energetic curiosity would be utterly squandered in the paranoid pursuit of protecting him. ________He would give this one a chance to be something else. __He would send him elsewhere.  
___

___But where? And how?___

___The roof of his blacksmith's chamber rattled gently under the low thrum of a star-ship engine. The little one was startled yet entranced by the noise. ___

__He emptied his tool box and tucked the now-confused little one inside. Free Mold then grabbed two small cubes from the table and handed one to him. Then he ducked outside, waded into the bay, and jettisoned towards Nautilus with the little one stowed safely. __

__When he reached Nautilus, he found what he had heard: a large CERF star-ship was hovering just above the bay. A groundbridge was open on the shore. __

__Once Free Mold was certain no one would spot him, he transformed and ducked into the portal, which led into the ship's hold. He looked around frantically until he found a nice little nook with nothing dangerous around it. The tool kit was gingerly placed down. But the little one was frightened at the new scenery. Wide lightning yellow optics darted around. He heard the beginnings of little keens form in his little throat. __

__"Hush. Hush," he soothed him. "It'll be alright."__

__"Hey, Jury Rig! Have you got those telluric inhibitors for me?" a voice from beyond the hold hollered. __

__Free Mold tensed. He frantically searched a nearby crate, found a data pad and stylus, and scribbled a message on it: __

__Please, take care of him. Give him a chance.__

__He dropped the datapad near the little one, gave the final tiny cube to him to keep him happy, gave one final comforting stroke to his tiny helm, and ducked back out of the portal.__

* * *

Windstorm stood staring at the old blacksmith. No wonder he didn't remember anything; he had been no more than a new-built when he had left the planet!

"Fine Tune once told me he'd found me on a ship," he murmured, "but he never told me which ship or where it came from..."

"Your Guardian?" guessed Trawler.

Windstorm nodded. An old engineer, he clarified, highly respected, who would sporadically come out of retirement to help on any ship that needed him.

Free Mold sighed. "In my haste, I never could have imagined the consequences of that decision."

His spark skipped a beat. "Consequences?"

"Not long after you I sent you away, Maelstrom became violent _–_ terribly so. For nearly ten years he indiscriminately attacked any foreign ship that dared come within reach of the water. His attacks were so routine, precautions had to be implemented."

"That is why only Aquatronian ships started hauling cargo here soon after relations were re-established," realized Windstorm. "I always thought it was a policy borne out of reactionary pettiness but _–_"

"I'm uncertain whether Maelstrom knew for sure what had happened or if he was assuming," continued Free Mold, "but regardless, the results were the same."

"So Tsunami was right," Trawler gasped. "Maelstrom wasn't just being temperamental. He was upset because his speaker was gone!"

Suddenly, the whine he had heard during the attack made sense. Maelstrom was not blindly aggressive. The "attacks" were probably Maelstrom searching for his missing speaker. He was upset, frustrated and desperate. How pitiable it must be, he thought, to have your voice taken from you without warning, to scream and bellow and rage but have no one understand you.

Free Mold hung his helm. "I am single-handedly responsible for angering a Leviacon King, endangering innocents, and creating a wedge between our people. I was a misguided, short-sighted fool. Forgive me."

Windstorm put a hand out on the mech's shoulder. "No. I should be thanking you. I would not trade what you did for anything."

"Really?" Hope came into Free Mold's old optics.

"Yes," he assured him, smiling. "Fine Tune raised me as lovingly as if I had come from the home Well. I prospered beyond what you could ever have imagined thanks to you. But I am back now. We _can_ make this right."

"It will not be as simple as you make it seem. I took from you years of training as a sea-speaker," Free Mold apologized. "You are starting completely from scratch."

"Starting from scratch is something I've become familiar with lately," he admitted frankly. "I'd be a poor excuse for an engineer if I couldn't do so. Fine Tune always told me the mark of a true engineer was his or her ability to improvise solutions."

"And hey, better late than never, right?" grinned Trawler, leisurely rolling his shoulders.

Free Mold smiled wryly back. "Indeed, Trawler. I trust you and your siblings will teach him what he needs to know."

"You bet we will! Come on, Windy! Time to go back to school!"

* * *

Rather than be taken back to land, Trawler had taken him back out to sea where a crowd of eight had greeted him and introduced themselves. Tsunami, the stunning yet stern leader of the speakers, speaker for the mighty Tidal Wave. Siltswell, her rowdy and jovial Second-in-Command, speaker for the mysterious and shy Turbid. Dredger, the friendly, cool-toned speaker for Flotsam. Skerry, the brightly colored and chipper speaker for Reef Crusher. Keel, the lion-fish-like and somewhat fidgety speaker for Ripper. Depth Charge, the eerily silent but nonetheless welcoming speaker for the reclusive Deep Rush. Outrigger, the ill-tempered femme speaker for Wave Cutter. And, finally, the talkative and conversational tangent-loving femme Gust, speaker for Gale Force.

They were a very colorful bunch, to say the least. He personally took a great liking to Siltswell and Trawler.

And, after a day or two of showing him around to familiarize him, they had collectively decided to drop him in at the deep end.

"...This feels ill-advised," noted Windstorm as he floated in the middle of the ocean, klicks upon klicks from safe land.

"What, you thought you'd be taught in a nice cozy lecture hall?" the splotched beige and blue shark-tailed femme, Siltswell, teased.

"Uh...Yes?"

Siltswell laughed heartily. "This _is _the lecture hall!"

"What a wuss. He's totally gonna die," Outrigger grumbled.

"Outrigger, none of that," snapped Tsunami coldly. "Windstorm, sea-speaking is learned through practice. You will not get that in a lecture hall setting."

"Fair enough. How...how does this work, exactly?"

"Just call him!" squeaked the tiny Skerry.

"..How? I rather doubt these creatures have comm. links."

Dredger rolled his optics. "Not _physically_ call him, Windstorm. It's a mental thing."

"Focus," Keel advised. "Reach out to him."

He shuttered his optics and focused. '_Maelstrom. Come. I am here._'

Nothing happened at first. Then, he felt an odd low roar in the back of his mind that progressively got louder until it sounded like the deluge of a monsoon. Oddly, he could tell it was not anger. It felt more like relief, really. Then, a form emerged out in the distance. Maelstrom was even more terrifying than the scanners had been able to show: a huge, long body that looked like a serpent had been mashed with a crocodile, with jagged dorsal spines jutting up from his back; a cavernous maw equipped with a massive set of teeth; short, stubby horns stuck out of his head. Huge semi-webbed forelimbs were tipped in titanic claws. An eel-like rudder of a tail pushed him through the water.

It took all his effort not to panic as the Leviacon got unnervingly close. But he seemed to sense that panic. He kept his maw shut and simply stared at him for a while through volatile, searing, glowing eyes bigger than he was.

"Wow! You're a quick learner!" Dredger smiled.

"Good," Trawler applauded. "Now, put your hand out. Let him talk through you. It's the only way they can."

He dared stretch a hand out to touch the tip of his snout. A low vibration in the water made his plating vibrate.

'_Speaker?_' an even deeper voice pounded in his mind like thunder.

"Yes. It's me."

Maelstrom's volatile optics flashed. '_Where? Gone?_'

"Ahh...that's...complicated. Though I wonder if...One moment. Let me try something."

He focused and replayed Free Mold's words in his head. But he accompanied them with some of his best memories of Cybertron. He had no idea if any of it was getting through until another low vibration went through the water.

'_Not taken. Washed away. Raised_ _far. Stress unbearable._'

"I can imagine," he smiled faintly. "But it's alright. I'm here now. You don't need to worry anymore. Or attack any more ships."

Maelstrom let out another low vibration. The deluge in his mind settled into a torrential shower.

"Alrighty! Now for the fun part!" declared Keel.

Keel swam up and gave a few knocks on Maelstrom's jaw like he was knocking on a door. "Open up, big guy!"

The Leviacon glared at him.

"If you please," added Windstorm.

On command the huge beast's maw yawned open. He felt a little faint seeing that Maelstrom had, in fact, _two _sets of teeth: one larger set sticking directly out of his upper and lower outer maw, and another set of smaller, even sharper protruding on the inside of that maw. The larger outer set must have been the ones to puncture the Matador.

"Alright! In you go!" Keel told him.

He turned, flabbergasted. "_I beg your pardon?!_"

"Dude, relax. He's not gonna eat you," Keel assured.

"Yeah! See? His throat bulkhead's down," Gust pointed out. "Only way you get eaten is if you drill through it. You'll be fine!"

Indeed, there was a massive panel covering the Leviacon's throat. That didn't make him any less unnerved, though. Why in the Allspark would he need to go _inside _a Leviacon's mouth?

"Mael? Mind if I go in with him?" Siltswell requested. "Your boy's a little squeamish."

'_Granted._'

"He said yes."

"Awesome! Come on!"

Siltswell practically dragged him in and swam up to the roof of the titan's maw where a strange thing was bolted. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be some kind of harness, with a single cable dangling down from above.

"This," said Siltswell, pointing at it, "is called the N-TIH unit. It's the most direct way to for a speaker to translate. That little cable you see there (she pointed) allows you direct access to the big guy's brain module."

"Allowing for a direct neural link to be established between both processors, thereby destroying any physical language barriers," he realized. "Impressive!"

"You wanna try it out?" she asked, optics glittering.

His curiosity got the better of him. Siltswell helped him figure out how to get the harness on and helpfully connected the cable to a hidden port on the back of his helm. The instant the cable was connected, a flood of information nearly caused him to black out. He felt...odd, too. Like he wasn't really in his own head anymore. He felt almost like he was floating, standing mid-air over a chasm with a single rickety bridge spanning the gap as powerful winds buffeted him from one side.

Even after the sense passed, he was left gasping, his whole awareness seared and numb.

A low groan came from the Leviacon. He could tell what it meant now. "_Link re-established. Flow stable._"

Siltswell unhooked him from the harness. He barely was able to activate his wind cannons to stay floating; all of his systems felt shocked and sluggish.

"The first link up is always rough," Siltswell admitted, smiling sympathetically. "You'll desensitize the more you do it."

"I hope so," he admitted shakily.

"I know so."

She led him back out into the open whereupon Maelstrom's maw creaked shut.

* * *

A week, as it came to a close, did not feel sufficient. There was so much information to absorb that he found himself, for once in his life, bewildered. Culture, language, sea-speaking, names, histories _– _he was learning of a whole world in the span of a single week. But his teachers had never shown a sense of urgency in their efforts. He felt perhaps they should have. As the sun rose on his final day, he couldn't help feeling fidgety, and unfortunately there was nothing around with which to occupy his twitching hands and over-eager processor as he waited for the ship to run through pre-flight diagnostics.

He could not help but let some relief through, however. There had been no sign of the strange violet-eyed mech from the beach. Perhaps he had been imagining it.

"Are all home-worlders this twitchy or is that just a 'you' thing?" came the high-pitched voice of little Skerry.

The little bright orange and white mini-con came and stood beside him on the beach.

"It's not often I have nothing to occupy my hands in tandem with my processor," he admitted.

"Here!"

She handed him a strange little cube with a great variety of buttons and switches on it.

"It's a fidget tool! Siltswell made it for you."

Surprised, he took it. He was surprised to find it fit his hand perfectly. He flipped some of the switches a few times. His hands were quite happy with it.

"Give her my thanks," he said, stashing it. "I can see this being very useful to me."

With a mighty bellow, the Matador roared back to life and rose from the water. A resounding cheer came from those who had helped fix it. He cheered with them.

"I suppose I should alert Mizzenmast of my departure," he noted.

But when he returned to the Admiral's home, the Admiral was not alone. Four other 'bots were in the circular room with him, and the air inside was fraught with tension from tight fields.

"The ship is repaired. I must return now," he told them hesitantly.

A tall, lean black and blue femme frowned. "I'm afraid we can't allow that, Windstorm."

"Excuse me?" he wondered.

"We? You mean the rest of you, Gondola," Mizzenmast growled. "You have no right to detain him!"

"We have every right to detain him," another Admiral stated coldly. "It's far too dangerous to send him out into the unknown. What if someone captures him?"

He stiffened. "I am more than capable of defending myself, thank you very much."

"I'm not willing to risk it. You're staying here," Gondola told him.

"Are you _trying _to start an interplanetary incident?!" cried Mizzenmast. "He's a citizen of Cybertron! Just because he was made here doesn't give you the right to functionally hold him prisoner!"

"Quite."

"Sir!"

They all turned. Siltswell stood on the threshold, optics wide. "We have a situation. The Sea-Graves. Someone's messed with them!"

Mizzenmast's anger blanched into horror. "What?"

"The bodies! All the bodies are gone!" Siltswell clarified, frantic. "Turbid can't find them anywhere! They were fine two days ago when we did a sweep and now they're just flat out _gone!_"

The silent Depth Charge ducked in under her arm. "Deep Rush found the Ship-Swallower missing from his grave, too," he reported in a quiet, wispy voice. "Apparently missing for a few days."

Now it was his turn to be horrified. "I beg your pardon _– _did you just say _Ship-Swallower?_"

"Undertow, Sovereign of the Hungry Seas," another Admiral, a large heavyset mech translated. "An absolute terror when he was alive. He earned that title for an obvious reason: he took to eating fleet ships."

It took a moment or two for that statement to sink in in all its horror. A Leviacon so massive it could swallow the sea-borne vessels of Aquatron?

"How in the seventy seas do you make off with a whole Leviacon?" demanded Siltswell. "You can't just put them on a dolly and cart them off!"

"Did you find anything at either site? Any clues?" Windstorm wondered.

"Yeah," Siltswell pulled a vial out of her hip compartment, filled with a glowing violet liquid. "I found this gunky stuff floating around in the water. Any clue what it is? I've never seen it before."

"I saw some of that substance as well," Depth Charge whispered. "It tasted horrible."

He let the horror of the fact that Depth Charge had actually, willingly tasted it slide for the moment.

"It's called Dark Energon," he clarified as terror crept into his spark. "With two sets of graves disturbed, and knowing how this substance works, that leads to only one logical conclusion: someone went on a re-animating spree."

"But...who? And where they'd all _go_?" demanded Mizzenmast. "It's not like an entire Leviacon can up and vanish. They're huge; impossible to miss."

An alert came from the Admiral's personal console. When he accepted it, a video feed appeared: a tall, gaunt mech stained violet and glowing with violet light. It was the same mech he had seen in the crowd, staring him down. Seared into his chassis was the horned crest of the Unmaker.

"Hello, _Admirals!_" the stranger greeted with a sneer.

"Regen?! What in the depths are you doing?!" Gondola cried.

""I stopped being the weak, sniveling Regen years ago! I am Scour! As for what I'm doing? I'm doing what I came here to do: cause chaos!" he stated, spreading his arms grandly.

"A Corrupticon," realized Windstorm. "So I _didn't _imagine you!"

"And I didn't imagine _you _either, you obnoxious little light-spawn!" he snarled, smiling, into the camera. "I was waiting for a big break to impress the master! Thanks to you, I now have one!"

"Corrupticon? Master?" Siltswell whispered into his audials. "Windstorm, what is going on?"

"I'll explain later," he whispered back. Then he turned back to address Scour. "I would tell you to leave Aquatron but I doubt you would listen. Fanatics aren't known for their rationality."

"Aah, a smart one. No, I'm not leaving. I got all set up _just_ for you..._Relkan_! Have a look!"

The camera panned away, higher up, to reveal a truly nightmarish sight. A gargantuan, monstrous form bristling with teeth and claws and horns loomed below the waves, glowing violet, upon which Scour was riding. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of other, smaller forms surrounding it in a horde were also stained with that tell-tale noxious hue. Even more of them seemed to be bobbing up to the surface as he watched. Scour had raised an army of the dead, with a Leviacon as his battering ram.

"Demon! Sacrilege!" snapped Siltswell. "Put them back!"

Scour laughed as the camera returned. "Aw! Is this upsetting to you? Get used to it! I've a mind to do a little redecorating once I'm done here _–_ starting with Nautilus! Unless you'd care to surrender?"

"Under what conditions?" Gondola demanded.

"The _Relkan_! Hand him over, and I _might _consider sparing your primitive little hovel!"

"Fat chance!" Siltswell barked back.

"You'll get him when the seas dry up!" agreed Mizzenmast.

"Then _– _a little advice _–_ I'd prepare for battle," warned Scour. "I'm eager for a promotion. Taking out a _Relkan_ and his speaker siblings? Oh-hoh, that will earn me one and then some."

The feed cut.

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted him!" hissed Gondola. "I told you, but did any of you listen?!"

"That's beside the point, now," Mizzenmast grunted. "We need to stop him before he inflicts causalities, if he hasn't already."

"And how exactly do you propose we stop an undead Leviacon?" demanded Windstorm flatly. That seemed a nigh-impossibly tall order.

"The same way we took Undertow out the last time," the heavyset Admiral hinted. "With the other Leviacons. Gather your kin, Siltswell. If it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll damn well get."

Siltswell saluted. "Outrigger will be happy to hear _that_, Broadsides! Come on, boys! Time to suit up!"

* * *

**Author's Note: I dreadfully wanted to put more world-building in here, since Aquatron seems to get the short end in that regard, but that might've bogged the story down a little. **


	3. Chapter 3: Home's Where (Part 3)

**Unleash the Beast!**

**Chapter 3: Home Is Where Your Leviacon Is (Part 3)**

*_Note: I'm using a more removed "third-person" for this big battle. Let me know if its more coherent this way! This fight won't be very long though, for reasons that will become painfully obvious. XD  
_

* * *

Siltswell spoke into her comm. link as she ran for the south shore, informing the others of the situation. Windstorm added in what information he knew about Corrupticons and Dark Energon. This would not be an easy battle, he warned. A Corrupticon on their own was bad enough; one with an army of undead and an undead Leviacon notorious for eating whole ships was arguably catastrophic. Luckily, Siltswell was on the same page as he was. She snipped into the common channel for Gust to take her Leviacon, Gale Force, and scout: enemy position and enemy headcount were the two main requests. She would join her with Turbid to scout out any weaknesses in the enemy's ranks from below.

"You aren't worried about being spotted?" he demanded as she dove into the water.

"Pfft! Not a chance! Keel doesn't call me "Lady Lurk" for nothing, Windstorm!" she winked.

[Don't leave us out of the fight!] came Wayfinder's voice. [Mizzenmast just told us what's going on. Colchis is willing to lend his big guns.]

"Good," he confirmed. "I expect we'll be needing them."

"I'll see if I can convince Deep Rush to help," whispered Depth Charge. "You go get Maelstrom."

Depth Charge dove into the water and disappeared too.

[Meet at Berm to the southwest, everyone!] ordered Tsunami. [If he's laying siege to Nautilus, we'll gather our forces outside for an ambush.]

[Copy that, ma'am.] grunted Colchis. [We'll give you a distraction so he doesn't catch on.]

[Don't make it too convincing, captain. He may catch on if it is,] warned Tsunami. [Fire some wide warning shots, nothing more.]

Windstorm waded into the water to the sound of the Matador launching for its diversion. He hoped Colchis knew to stay high up.

Once he hit the continental shelf, he dove. Upon hitting a depth of about a thousand feet, he leveled off and, after being certain he was in the open ocean, he began calling for Maelstrom across the link. Soon enough, the monsoon in his mind returned. He met up with Maelstrom en route to the rendezvous. After spending a week around him, his preliminary skittishness was effectively gone. Maelstrom allowed him to grab hold of his dorsal spines and hitch a ride. En route, they bumped into the manta titan, Flotsam, with her manta-like speaker Dredger hitch-hiking. They then ran into the multi-eyed, sail-finned Ripper, with Keel clinging to his stubby snout horn. Ripper didn't seem too enthused to be so close to Flotsam but a low growl and near bite from Maelstrom soon had him following them like an obedient puppy.

Berm itself was a large ring of islands with a wide, deep bay (probably all that remained of a massive super-volcano's caldera) already occupied by Nekton and an even bigger, kelp-colored reptilian beast: the old Reef Crusher, Skerry's Leviacon – the only Leviacon other than Nekton who was truly amphibious. While Ripper and Flotsam could fit into the already semi-crowded bay, there wasn't enough space for Maelstrom.

"Circle the island," he ordered as he disembarked. "Keep a look out for us."

Maelstrom let out a low grumble, pulled back, and swam out to commence his patrol.

Windstorm joined Skerry, Dredger, Keel, Trawler, and Tsunami on shore. Already Tsunami was mapping out battle plans in the sand based on data coming in from Gust and Gale Force. Undertow was at the head of the formation with the re-animated husks of the shipwreck victims horded around him like a swarm. Those husks wouldn't be so much a challenge with the aid of the aquatic titans as much as an intentional nuisance to get past. It was a flimsy wall but a wall nonetheless.

"The last thing we want is anyone being swarmed," Tsunami said. "We need a way to remove his cannon fodder so the Leviacons can focus."

"Leave that to me and Silt," proclaimed Trawler with a confident grin. "Can undead get sea-sick, do you think?" he hinted playfully.

"Windstorm. You said the only way to truly defeat an infected creature is to dismember it, correct?" Tsunami demanded of him.

"Yes. Our medic Charity explained that if the Dark Energon flow is disrupted it will cease working. Cut off the power source, and you lose power."

"Good. Keel, you will work with Outrigger to start that process. Once your side is clear, go for fins and the tail; that will destroy his mobility. Windstorm, you and Maelstrom will assist them only once the horde has been cleared. If we have too many Leviacons in one place it will become too crowded and hectic to operate effectively."

Windstorm nodded stiffly. "Understood. Do keep in mind that the longer the Leviacons are exposed to the Dark Energon, the more likely they are to suffer ill-effects. All those injuries will surely leak an unfathomable amount of the substance into the water."

"I can help keep the water clear," offered the manta-mech, Dredger. "Flotsam's turbines are perfect for that sort of thing."

['Nami, Deep Rush is willing to help but only once you guys have Undertow weakened. He will make sure the Ship-Swallower _stays _down.]

"Thank you, Depth Charge," she clipped. "Remain on standby, then."

[Roger, 'Nami. Over and out.]

"What of you, Tsunami?" Windstorm wondered.

Tsunami's bright pink optics pulled up from the sand. "Tidal Wave and I will finish the fight, just as we did last time. He's the only one big enough and strong enough to inflict fatal damage on his body. Undertow's body still has damage from last time, too, so it might be easier to hurt him. We'll see."

"We're sure this jerk doesn't know about the last time, right?" chirped Skerry. "He's not going to counter us?"

"Corrupticons can't read the minds of those they control, can they, Windstorm?" demanded Tsunami through flashing optics.

The engineer shrugged, "There has been no evidence thus far indicating they can."

"And Scour cannot connect to Undertow the way a speaker can. So I don't think that will be a concern, Skerry," she assured the little mini-con.

"Phew! You hear that, Crusher?" she cheerfully called.

The big reptilian creature slowly nodded his horned head. Skerry offered him a bright smile and a thumbs up in return.

"I'd advise Reef Crusher stay out of this to begin with, Skerry. He's older. He could be weaker to Dark Energon than the others."

Skerry wasn't bothered being grounded. "Okay! Go kick his butt for us!"

['Nami, I've got an update.] came Siltswell's voice.

"Report," the lead sea-speaker clipped briskly.

Siltswell reported that Scour's defenses below the water were minimal – all his forces were on the water's surface. Further, they seemed to be acting in unison, like a school of fish, rather than independently or even as individual branches like she'd thought they would. That matched up with Windstorm's own data; the lesser Corrupticons Optimus and Vector had fought in the mountains had acted similarly to a swarm or a hive, with only the more powerful ones like Setback or Malice acting as independent commanders. Siltswell's data also lined up with how Dark Energon re-animation worked: anything re-animated was merely a pawn to the one in command.

But, Windstorm wondered, did Scour have the capacity to command both the swarm _and _Undertow? Even for a Corrupticon, that might be pushing it. Was there a way to strain the control enough so his minions rebelled?

"It's an idea worth testing out," Trawler acceded, scratching his chin. "Not that I'm sure _how _we'd test that though, if I'm honest."

Tsunami nodded. "Out of curiosity, Siltswell, are they affected by Turbid's song?"

[It's hard to tell with how quiet he's keeping it. Turbid's too skittish right now to try it louder, and that may just tip the enemy off that we're prodding his defenses. This guy's dumb, not deaf.]

"Wise. Retreat, then. We have what we need. Prepare for the assault."

[You got it!]

"How will we approach?" asked Dredger.

Tsunami pointed back at the battle map. "His forces seem to be focused on the front and sides. He's clearly not anticipating an attack from behind. He will that regret that cockiness quickly. Outrigger, is that clear?"

[Chomp on some zombie tail? Copy that. I think Wave Cutter missed breakfast this morning,] The grouchy Outrigger actually sounded happy, even eager, for once. Had Scour been able to hear her, Windstorm was certain he would be second-guessing his decision to fight.

"_Don't _let her consume it," hissed Windstorm. "That could make her ill, or worse, render her capable of being controlled by Scour."

[Copy that, nerd boy. Just chomp, no eat.]

"Good. You know your roles. Partner up, then, and remember the old adage that this invader ignores: Anger the Leviacons –"

"Anger the seas!" cheered the other speakers with gusto.

All save Tsunami rushed back into the water where their titans were waiting. When Windstorm gave her a curious look, she gestured to the southern portion of the atoll. Windstorm understood, and thus drove to the western hook of the island where Maelstrom was waiting about two klicks off shore. The titan assured him he had encountered no trouble, which really only served to exemplify how bad at this Scour really was. No combat training at all, it looked like, not even an understanding of basic strategy or reconnaissance. It was rather surprising that Scour was so haughty when he was so under-prepared. Numbers weren't going to help if you were bad at using them.

'_Trickery?_' grumbled Maelstrom.

He hemmed. No, not trickery. Corrupticons were functionally immortal – resilient and able to mend otherwise fatal injuries due to their bodies being pumped full of potent Dark Energon. It explained his eagerness to do battle against literal titans: Scour thought himself utterly immune from harm.

Maelstrom's huge glowing eyes flashed. '_Prove him wrong._'

Windstorm grinned. "Quite. Shall we, then?"

The sea-faring titan's maw yawned open. The rush of a connection, this time, not only felt right – it was two-way. Torrents of each mind met in the middle of the chasm to fuse into a single crashing storm.

* * *

The water was calm – calmer than perhaps it had any right to be when it was buoying an undead horde. On Undertow's head, Scour waited, his patience dwindling.

Deep below, near the ocean floor, the signal from Turbid and Siltswell was broadcast: _begin_.

Scour was too focused on the Matador in the distance to bother looking behind. He didn't see the water breach twice in unison – the first breach that of a huge, rhino-like horn far bigger than a terrestrial passenger plane wing, and the second breach an equally massive dorsal fin with a small platform encircling the top where Outrigger stood. After the horn came the head: a deadly predatory triangle cutting through the waves like a ship's bow, hence the Leviacon's name.

"Alright, big girl. Best _Jaws _impression! Let's go!" barked Outrigger.

There came a creaking groan as Wave Cutter's maw opened while she rushed forward. Inside that maw was a nightmarish, whirling forest of giant teeth arranged in circular bands that buzzed around like sawblades. By the time Scour noticed the Leviacon's swift approach, it was too late to have the massive, sluggish Undertow react: Wave Cutter snapped down with her outer set of giant teeth, and a violent, discordant whine said that the inner teeth were already cutting away at Undertow's tail.

"Finally! I was wondering when you would show up!" shouted Scour. "I was beginning to get bored!"

The horde all around began to shift. A few began trying to climb up onto Wave Cutter's fins, but a hefty jerk saw them dismounted.

That was the cue for Trawler and Siltswell. Nekton and Turbid roused out of the ocean floor in a plume of sediment. Trawler urged him in a straight, snout-first ascent.

"You ready for this, guys?" the blue-grey giant grinned.

Nekton gave a happy chirp that needed no translation.

*_Ready, Trawler!_*

Trawler laughed, "Let's do this!"

"Belly-flop breach!" they both cried.

Nekton thus breached out of the water into the port-side horde, and, chirping, fell sideways in a massive plume of water. Turbid did the same on the starboard side. Some of the tiny horde members were outright flung into the air with the disturbed water, while the waves sloshed and scattered them back. Scour had Undertow try to turn, but Wave Cutter clamped down even harder on the giant's tail and yanked. Undertow, under Scour's command, strained against her pull.

"Splish-splash, Nekton! Splish-splash!" Trawler told him, flapping his arms.

Nekton understood. Siltswell had Turbid do the same. Again and again their giant flippers struck the ocean's surface to generate even more turbulent waves. Any unfortunate to be beneath those flippers were crushed. Unable to coordinate in the tumult, the two side hordes began to fragment. Scour tried to compensate, re-organizing them, but it seemed the waters were too wild by then for his efforts to really matter. And Keel made sure things stayed wild. In the water's beyond Undertow's starboard side, Ripper rushed in like a mad storm. His sail cut their ranks; claws rent into the ocean, fangs snapped onto Undertow's flipper, and the titan beast began to rabidly thrash about in his efforts to rend the clawed fin.

"Fight back, you overgrown cargo hauler!" snapped Scour. "I command it!"

Undertow's head swung, ramming one of his massive front-facing horns sideways into the much smaller Ripper. Ripper, however, gamely clung on, gladly taking the opportunity to slash back with his claws. In the end, another swing of Undertow's horns wound up giving the final push on Ripper that rent the rotten flipper clear of its joint. On Keel's order, it was quickly spat out. Moments later, Wave Cutter bit through Undertow's tail at last.

"Nowhere to run now, jerk!" shouted Outrigger. "Your ride can't swim!"

Ripper, Turbid, and Wave Cutter, however, started to behave strangely as the purple grunge inside Undertow seeped out into the water.

Scour laughed, "You honestly thought it would be that easy? Didn't your Relkan friend tell you that Dark Energon has degenerative effects on the body?"

[Dredger! Your turn!] barked Tsunami.

[Everybody hold on!]

Dredger piloted Flotsam into position just below Undertow yet behind Wave Cutter. A veritable hurricane was whipped up underwater by Flotsam's titanic turbines. Tons upon tons of tainted sea water (and unfortunate, sinking undead) was violently ejected from the battlefield. As the waters cleared, the Leviacons started to perk up again, enough to continue with the attack.

A giant, six-legged shadow descended out of the sky. Gale Force's plane-like wings, outfitted with even bigger turbines than Flotsam, dwarfed any Terran aircraft that they happened to mimic. Scour, taken aback by the awesome sight, looked like he was starting to reconsider fighting them – his dropped jaw and wide optics plainly said he'd had no idea one of the titans could fly. How was he supposed to fight something if he couldn't reach it?

[Blow him away, Double G!] laughed Trawler.

[Blowing him away, Trawler!] cried Gust.

The Leviacons ducked below the water to avoid what was about to come. Gale Force's wings re-oriented, allowing her to hover. With a thundering screech, her turbines roared into overdrive. Sheets of water were kicked up as the screaming winds rushed past. Any remaining undead were sent flying into the distance, some torn apart by the wind outright. Not even Undertow's plating was immune to the terrible winds. Scour barely had time to duck behind one of Undertow's small (relatively) dorsal spines to avoid a large segment of plating that hurtled past him. Unfortunately for Scour, even that started to creak and loosen under the onslaught; Undertow's decades at the sea-floor quietly rusting had left him fragile, more so than Scour had anticipated.

And then came the storm: Maelstrom, with Windstorm at the helm. The angry behemoth rammed into Undertow from the side with such brutal force that it knocked Scour clear of his hiding place and sent him careening across Undertow's back. Maelstrom began to bite down on Undertow's head, puncturing it with his outer row of teeth. Undertow snapped back with his own forest of nightmare fangs. Maelstrom bit back even harder. On Windstorm's order, his massive claws began to rip into Undertow's metal hide. The resulting gaping wounds gushed even more Dark Energon into the water. But their enemy still kept functioning. Undertow swung sideways to clamp his bigger jaws down on Maelstrom's snout.

Maelstrom writhed and eventually, with help from Ripper and Turbid, broke free – now with a few new scars swiping across his head.

Windstorm was stunned and fascinated he could feel the scars on his own face. Ghost pains, medics called them.

Windstorm, grimacing through the pain, focused, closed his optics, and re-opened them. He was not looking out from his own optics but those of Maelstrom. And what he could see was encouraging: thousands of invisible energy tethers from the undead horde had snapped. The large chain like one connecting Scour to Undertow was looking quite frayed. All the missing Dark Energon was severing Scour's connection to Undertow.

Far out to the east, Maelstrom saw something: a wave.

"Everyone! Down, down!" Windstorm cried.

While Gale Force flew up into the clouds, every other Leviacon dove.

"Running away, are you?" gloated Scour. "Had enough, then?!"

When no one answered, his expression changed. "...They aren't running from _me_, are they?" Scour realized aloud.

Scour tried to have Undertow dive to chase after them. Stripped of his tail and fins, though, all Undertow could do was float.

Annoyed, frustrated, the Corrupticon looked in all directions for a means to strike back – and saw what was coming. The wave on the horizon had became a monstrous tsunami. Forcing it ahead was the mighty King of the Leviacons: the truly mountainous Tidal Wave.

"_Drown him, Tidal Wave!_" Tsunami shouted from her harness.

Right as the wave threatened to crash down on Undertow, Tidal Wave leapt through it, roaring a roar loud enough to rupture human ear drums, and rammed himself into Undertow. His two heavy tusks buried themselves into Undertow's face while his massive maw ripped and tore into his head. As the wave came down on them all, Undertow (and Scour with him) was dragged helplessly below in a wild writhe of limbs and fins. The two titans engaged in a rather one-side fight on the way down, and the water was stained purple by even more of the seeping purple grunge. Dredger and Flotsam worked posthaste to clear it. Undertow was then dragged horizontally towards a huge underwater rift valley where Tidal Wave relinquished his death hold.

[Finish him!] clipped Tsunami to Depth Charge.

The Leviacons and their speakers backed away from the chasm. Out of the cavernous trench below, the reclusive eel-like behemoth Deep Rush emerged head first to sink his fangs into what was left of Undertow's tail, and promptly pulled him into the deep. Scour, however, did not go down with his metaphorical ship; he clumsily launched free, barely able to fight the clashing currents swirling around him.

[Hey, hey, HEY! Perp's trying to make a break for it!] Dredger alerted them.

Windstorm emerged from Maelstrom's maw. He couldn't help being somewhat amused at Scour's frantic (and poor) attempt to swim. He hovered effortlessly in the water near him.

"Pity you don't have an aquatic mode," he noted lightly, "or any means of propulsion, really."

"Are you mocking me?!"

"Not mocking. Observing. I observe that you are spectacularly bad at this. So spectacular I am amazed you were even inducted."

"Just watch!" snarled Scour. "I'll raise another army and invade you on land! Your sea titans won't be any help there! Then see about that superior attitude, Relkan!"

"You realize at least three of them are amphibious," he noted dryly. "And even if you did attack on land, I can merely –"

Ripper cut everything short by snapping his teeth into Scour. One tooth punctured right through him, skewering him. Windstorm was so taken aback at the sudden snap (and its gruesome end result) he could only stare.

[Sorry! Sorry! I couldn't stop him!] Keel gasped.

"Just don't let Ripper _eat_ him," urged Windstorm flatly. "I'm sure Colchis will have some place to keep him on the Matador."

[Keep him? He looks _pretty_ dead to me, dude.]

Windstorm eyed the Corrupticon's purple optics. "He's not. Trust me, Keel. Killing a Corrupticon is never that easy. I blew up a ship with one it; not even that was sufficient."

[Oh-hoh-kay wow!] gasped Keel. [Tha-that's actually kinda terrifying. How the heck're you supposed to get rid of them if they don't stay dead?]

"We simply don't know yet. That's why our best option is to contain him."

Tsunami agreed such a course of action was a wise one.

A tiny form emerged from the chasm. In the glow of his angler-fish-lure light, Depth Charge merely nodded.

[Good work.] Tsunami told him.

Windstorm returned to Maelstrom.

Tidal Wave gave a low grumble before releasing Tsunami. Nekton happily offered her a ride instead while Tidal Wave disappeared into the open ocean. Even at a slower pace, giant waves formed in the wake of the King's manta-like wings.

The Leviacons re-convened in formation. With Maelstrom in the lead and Ripper in the middle, they made their way back to the bay of Nautilus. But the only two to physically enter the bay were Flotsam and Ripper; everyone else was content to linger in the deeper waters beyond. Keel guided Ripper up onto the beach, much to Windstorm's surprise, after which Keel leapt out and tried to get Scour free of the tooth. With the enlisted strength of Trawler, they eventually succeeded. Keel nearly yelped when Scour struck Trawler and staggered away, somehow not bleeding to death from the gaping hole in his chest. Trawler had no problem grabbing the unruly Corrupticon and slinging over his shoulder like a sack of gears. Scour seemed too weak to fight back at that point. He was strong enough to loudly complain though.

Colchis's security officers quickly met them on the beach. They cuffed Scour, wrapped a few chains around him for good measure, and hauled him into the ship where a pod was waiting for him.

From the head of Reef Crusher, little Skerry cheered.

The cheer didn't last long. Admiral Gondola, standing on the shore, looked out into the bay where Maelstrom was and simply frowned.

Windstorm knew what it meant. For now, he decided to appease her. Colchis would have to talk her out of it; if it meant a few additional days to learn, he was willing to tolerate her ruling.

* * *

_Was that really it?_

Windstorm couldn't help but feel a touch suspicious. He trusted Colchis, of course, but there was no way to tell for certain if his precautions would hold against a supernatural threat like Scour. What if he got loose and infected the crew or, Primus forbid, the ship itself? Then again, keeping him on Aquatron wouldn't be any less dangerous. If he could infect Nautilus with debilitating side-effects as he had with the Leviacons, he'd have an opportune moment to rush off and raise another army to attack while they were weak.

"Dear me, I'm beginning to sound like Zodiac," he muttered lightly.

A wordless question from Maelstrom hung in his mind.

"Goodness, did I forget to tell you about her? Zodiac is a fellow scientist, a planetary astronomer for the CERF. You wou–"

"_WINDSTORM!_" shrieked a familiar voice.

Even Maelstrom couldn't help but flinch at the volume.

"Zodiac! Please, calm yourself. I'm quite alright." He paused. "Wait, how are you conversing with me right now? Aren't you back at the salvage yard?"

A low scream forced Maelstrom's attention up. A ship was just coming out of its atmospheric descent: an Aquatronian cargo hauler. Colchis, he remembered then, had sent out an alert that they were stranded on the off chance the Matador's repairs hadn't been finished in time. That message seemed to have gone through smoothly, so why was Zodiac sounding so panicked?

"_Where are you?_" she demanded nervously. "_I don't see you._"

"If you are looking for me on shore, you are looking in the wrong place," he teased calmly.

Gust waved them down from the semi-submerged Gale Force where the other speakers were gathered. Whoever was captaining the cargo hauler thus bridged Zodiac, Optimus, and Bumblebee onto what they must have assumed was a strange ship. He did admit that, currently, Gale Force did bear a passing resemblance to an aircraft carrier. Her long, near perfectly flat back could probably serve as one, really.

Maelstrom understood the new arrivals were friends. Without asking him to, he lunged up out of the water, much to the fright of his allies. Maelstrom's enormous tongue came up to catch him as he dropped from the N-TIH unit. When Maelstrom opened his maw to let him exit, Zodiac and Bumblebee first reacted with more fright; then, they reacted in shocked confusion as they stared, speechless, at the sight of him calmly hopping from Maelstrom's giant metal tongue onto deck.

"Why thank you, Maelstrom!" he said cheerfully.

The titan emitted a low rumble after his maw closed. His head sank back below the waves.

"Windstorm?!" cried Bumblebee. "What?! What were you doing inside that thing's _mouth_?!"

He cocked a brow ridge at him. "That is where the N-TIH unit is."

Shock started to ebb more into confusion. "The what now?"

"The N-TIH unit," he repeated. "The most direct means for a speaker to translate."

Bumblebee remained lost for a few more moments. At that point, shock gave way to a smile. "So I'm guessing your study abroad vacation went okay? Is Aquatron starting to feel a little more like home now?"

Windstorm's optic twitched. Something about his tone simply made all his frustration snap taught.

"Smoothly?" he scoffed. "_Smoothly?!_ I was given a mere _week _to learn about an entire culture's history and the complexities of sea-speaking. I've been _threatened_ and forcibly _detained _here by the Admirals – which will undoubtedly lead to a diplomatic incident that I am helpless to stop – and as if that wasn't enough – oh no, because of _course _it wasn't! – I was _attacked _by a _Corrupticon_ and an _undead Leviacon just yesterday!_"

He stood there panting. Optimus stared in return, quite taken aback by what no doubt came across as uncharacteristic temper.

Annoyingly, Bumblebee's friendly smile didn't dissipate. "So? Does it feel a little more like home?"

He sighed, unable to stop a faint smile from forming. "You know what? Yes. In a strange way, yes."

Bumblebee then took notice of the little gathering (minus Skerry) that had welcomed them aboard Gale Force. "Who are these guys?"

Windstorm's smile became more amiable. "These are...well, I suppose you could say they are the extended family that I...never knew I had."

"The other speakers?" Optimus guessed correctly.

"Indeed, sir."

"Care to introduce us then?" grinned Zodiac.

He did. He managed to introduce everyone in order right up until heard a happy shriek, almost perfectly on cue with him bringing up the one who made it.

"_Oh my gosh you're bright yellow! EEeeeeEEeee!_"

Skerry zipped over to Bumblebee, grabbed his leg, and refused to let go. "So pretty," she muttered.

"Uh...who're you?" the former scout wondered.

"I'm Skerry!" the little mini-con greeted.

"What? No you're not," Bumblebee chuckled. "You're anything _but_ scary."

Skerry rolled her optics in good humor. "No, silly! Not 'Scary'! Skerry! S-K-E-R-R-Y!"

"Oooooh. You mean like a reef skerry, not appearance scary. Yeah, _that _makes more sense. You're another speaker?"

"Yep! I speak for Reef Crusher! Say hi, Crusher!" she cried, waving out across the bay.

Reef Crusher's head emerged above water to snort a friendly cloud of mist in their direction. To both his and Skerry's surprise, that wasn't the end of it. Something (or someone) caught the old Leviacon's interest, so he galumphed out into the bay to investigate. Even more surprising, that point of interest turned out to be none other than Optimus himself. Reef Crusher loomed in so close to them all it was possible to see the algae and coral growing between his giant metal scales. Optimus, however, showed no alarm; recognition of all things glittered in his blue optics.

"...You remember me," he rumbled quietly.

Reef Crusher rumbled gently back.

"You've met Reef Crusher before?" demanded Windstorm, shocked.

"Once. A long time ago, though I was not aware of his name then. If not for his intervention I may not have been standing here telling you so."

"You got saved by a Leviacon?" gasped Bumblebee.

"So _that's _how you knew what a Leviacon was without Waves ever clarifying!" realized Zodiac.

Skerry snapped her digits, "Oh, yeah! Crusher mentioned once he saved a couple of you wheely-types when their ship got shot down!"

"He did," the Prime confirmed, "though it was not the most..._orthodox _rescue; he caught us in his mouth in order to ferry us to shore. Jazz and Jetfire were convinced he was going to devour us. Perceptor was skeptical of that, and proceeded to prove his skepticism was founded – in perhaps not the safest way."

Bumblebee laughed, "Percy started doing scientific fate-tempting, didn't he?"

"Yes," the Prime smiled. "Much to Jetfire's profound horror."

(Had it been his imagination or had he detected a little spurt of humor in his voice?)

Not even the outwardly cold Tsunami or the grouchy Outrigger could hold back a laugh at the image that evoked. Not even _he _could. The sight of one of the most respected scientists ever created by Cybertron purposefully tempting fate to prove his theory, while his allies panicked and tried to get him to stop, was a laughable one knowing Reef Crusher's personality now. Perceptor had probably wound up annoying him in the end, as the old King would have wondered why the tiny little outsider was trying to provoke him for, in his eyes, no good reason.

"Speaking of rescues," Siltswell smiled, "do you think you could pay old Crusher's rescue forward? Your boy needs an assist. The Admirals have detained him."

"_Illegally, _I might add," Windstorm hissed.

"Of course," Optimus nodded.

"Can't we just smuggle him out while no one's looking?" asked Zodiac.

Outrigger frowned and jerked a thumb back to shore. "They _are _looking. Even if they weren't, they'd check your ships with a fine-toothed comb. _That__'s_ how paranoid these jerks are about taking off our leashes."

"You mean Gondola," Dredger corrected.

"Yeah. Mainly her. Glitch," Outrigger huffed.

Zodiac shrugged, "Legal argument it is, then."

* * *

"We can't let you take him back," said Gondola flatly.

At his side, Bumblebee was flabbergasted. "What? Why not? He's a registered citizen of Crystal City. If you detain him, you're functionally kidnapping him!"

"He was forged here. His spark came from our Well. That makes him by default a creation of Aquatron," another Admiral, Halyard, reminded him.

"Oh, Tidal Wave drown you both!" spat Mizzenmast. "It's like you _want _to start an incident! We have no right to claim him as ours! He has a whole life back on Cybertron and you'd yank him away from that for, what, baseless paranoia?"

"Admirals, if I may," Optimus began, "there is a good reason you should let him leave freely: the Corrupticon who attacked your planet."

"What about him?" wondered the heavyset Broadsides.

"You think Scour will be the last? Windstorm is one of seven new Relkana. The Corrupted will discover he is here, alone. They will flock to him with the sole intent to kill him, and they will slaughter anyone who tries to impede that goal. That is not exaggeration; that is fact. Many will be far, far more capable and dangerous than Scour was. Detaining Windstorm here will not only endanger him – stranding him away from his allies – it will endanger _you_ in the process. Are you truly willing to place your people at risk of future attacks, all for the sake of keeping _one_ of your speakers here against his will?"

Gondola, for once, seemed to bend to his logic. "Your point is a strong one."

"But?" Zodiac prompted.

"You have to understand our wariness here, Prime," Halyard stated. "The last time Windstorm left the planet, Maelstrom went on a decade-long rampage as a result."

"Sure, but this time he knows where he's going," Bumblebee noted. "He's got _way _less of a reason to flip out."

"You would be excused for thinking that, but I'm afraid it's not so simple," Broadsides argued. "Leviacons bear a tight psychological bond with their speakers. The farther away a sea-speaker is, the fainter that connection. Windstorm is going to be light-years away; that re-established bond will snap at that distance – there will be no more two-way feed. If they are apart for too long, stress could mount until either lashes out. I think this goes without saying that a Leviacon suffering a stress-induced mental breakdown is dangerous. Windstorm suffering one as a Relkan could be just as dangerous."

Windstorm's processor lit up in realization. "If communication is the root of the problem, but the link I have now has a limited radius, then I see a rather simple solution: I can create a quantum communicator that will allow us both to remain in contact. Is that sufficient enough to negate this problem, Admirals?"

Gondola blinked. "Well, I – I suppose that would work. But who would translate for Maelstrom in your absence? That was half the reason for his rampage."

"That I admit I do not have an obvious answer for."

"If you cannot offer a solution to that, you cannot leave."

For once in his life, Windstorm exasperatedly rolled his optics. "You are treating Maelstrom like a temperamental toddler. He is aware of the fact I cannot stay. He has expressed no issue with my inability to translate for him while absent. Honestly, his main concern was being unable to speak to me, a problem I have already proposed a ready solution for. Or would like to continue subtly insulting the Storm-Wracker's intelligence?"

Gondola was visibly impressed by his confrontational tone – in a "you-have-some-nerve" way.

"Fine," she yielded. "You have presented a decent case against forcing you to stay. I am not one to argue against Maelstrom himself. If _he _accepts this –"

"Which he has," he sniffed back.

"–then I will surrender to his ruling."

"Thank you," he nodded. "I will create this communicator before I leave, if that will placate your temper?"

"How long will that take?" whispered Bumblebee.

"Not long. A few hours at worst," he whispered back.

"Any supplies or people we can give for this project, just ask," Mizzenmast urged. "I suspect you will be needing more than usual to make a jumbo-sized one."

"I appreciate it. But it will be no larger than a standard unit. I only need access to Maelstrom's processor to install it."

"...Are you qualified to _do_ that?" Zodiac skeptically questioned.

"I may not be. Siltswell _is_," he told her.

* * *

Windstorm felt a little regretful, truth to be told, as the Matador readied for its atmospheric launch. He barely felt he knew Maelstrom or Aquatron enough to warrant the twinge in his spark, but leaving them now – it was hard. The link with Maelstrom tugged at his psyche; the exterior feed of Maelstrom himself staring after the ship only made that tug painful.

'_Please try not to cause a ruckus while I'm gone,_' he urged his Leviacon.

'_Return when?_'

He wasn't sure; there was no way to _be_ sure. Getting back to Aquatron would be difficult if not impossible while two crises were playing out on Earth. But he promised once more that he would speak to Maelstrom over the quantum link as often as he needed. For reassurance of his continued functionality if nothing else.

The Matador's engine kicked into high gear. The last he saw of the great Leviacon was him rearing his head out of the water to roar his farewell – or, perhaps, to cry.

He was forced to look away from the feed as Maelstrom's psyche pounded into his processor in one last desperate attempt to connect before the snap. He didn't feel it happen though. There was no indication of the break when they passed through the spacebridge, only a profound, empty silence in his mind that he had not noticed before, a silence he had never realized was a sign of something wrong.

This, he understood then, was how Windblade felt.

Bumblebee put a hand on his shoulder. "The next opportunity we get, we'll try to arrange another visit."

"Thank you," he said. "But I must focus on a greater problem. Did I miss anything of note during my absence?"

Zodiac got a look on her face. "Uhhh...a _bit_," she admitted slowly.

* * *

**Author's Note: This is probably the last chapter post for a while. Finals crunch is here and I gotta hunker down to get through it.**

**Character note: Yeah, Tsunami really lives up to her name. She will destroy you so thoroughly there's basically no way for you to retaliate. Even if Scour was more competent he still wouldn't have fared any better. XD**


End file.
